Musings of a Maid
by ladyisis-uk
Summary: A little piece to accompany my bigfic, Duty Bound. You would need to read that first. The newly appointed maid muses on her new employers.


**Musings of a Maid**

**By LadyIsis**

**Rated K+**

**Warnings: Sequel**

**Characters: Original Characters, Legolas.**

**Synopsis: A little piece to accompany my bigfic, Duty Bound. You would need to read that first. The newly appointed maid muses on her new employers.**

**_This is for the lovely Lathril, who was my dedicated reviewer throughout Duty Bound. Thank you for all of your input and feedback. I couldn't make the bigger changes I'd have liked to the final chapter, I got block and the task seemed huge, but I wrote this insight for you at your request...see folks reviewing works! lol_**

* * *

I recheck my cart, ensuring I have everything I will need. Yesterday I forgot the polish. I have performed maid duties for high ranking officials, but the royals themselves, that is an honour. Their return has created many new roles, mine just one of them. I share the main duties with another, and we work under Aòrelind, the Imladris elleth who came with them. Personally I think it a little unfair that she was given the opportunity. A Prince and Princess of the Woodland Realm should be staffed with Woodland elves, should they not? But they themselves seem well enough, though I have not seen his Highness himself, leaving so soon as he did.

I have met the Princess a few times, she is peculiar to look upon, though she is the first mortal woman I have ever seen. Her hair seems often untameable, it can be difficult to keep one's face sincere. She seems sad, probably lonely.

There are those who dare to whisper, in the kitchens, of why we should have to accept a mere mortal as our sovereign. I do not know what to think, I am not paid to think, I am paid to work, and I am content with that. They are strange, but it is not for me to pass judgement. The Prince is the Prince, and his choice of wife cannot be swayed by the likes of us. Some even say she is not from this world at all. Some say she is of the Valar, sent to test us, but she knows so little of our lands and customs that it surely cannot be true.

They are kind folk, loyal to the King and their people, and that is all that truly matters I suppose.

I gather myself, preening my uniform in case she is there, and knock the door firmly. There is no answer, she must be with the seamstresses again today. My cousin, Phae, has been working with her. She is quite cruel when she speaks of her skill, or lack of it. I know I should tell her to mind her words, but it is hard not to find it amusing, though I feel awful for finding mirth in a poor woman's struggle.

I open it slowly, glimpsing the open door to what will be the little one's room. They are working inside, started yesterday. With no sign of anyone, just the sounds of clattering about in the second bedroom, I back my cart into the lounge and take a look around.

Other than the dust at the entrance to the second bedroom, the place is spotless. Again. The carpets and upholsteries are creamy white in colour, yet nothing mars them. I give everything a brush down to make it seem as though I have done something, then go into the empty bedroom, the Prince and Princess' room.

It has an odd feel to it. It is far more luxurious than anything I have ever seen, though I've heard tell from the other maids that the King's chambers and the family wing, when it had been occupied, was very grand indeed. Yet it has an ordinary air. They have organised piles of belongings, which the Princess is gradually wading through. I offered to do it for her, but she politely declined. She certainly isn't like any Princess I've heard tell of.

There are children's things scattered too. I tidied them up on my first day and had them moved into storage until their daughter's room was ready. I thought I was being efficient, but her Highness was not impressed it seemed. She's a bit obsessive actually, about doing such things herself. I straighten up the bedclothes, tucking them in as I was taught to, then move on to the bathroom.

"Your Highness, nay!" I cry, startled as I see her on the floor, scrubbing harshly.

"Please, I need to do _something_," I could see tears in the poor woman's eyes, "I need to do something useful, I can't bear this idleness!" she pleaded with me.

My pity for her amplified and I suddenly felt angry at the doubters for cutting her off so. She desperately needed some acceptance and kindness. It's easy to mock her from a distance, but facing her now, she was so unhappy it made me feel as though I was responsible for every jibe myself, despite the fact that I had never actively participated. I never spoke up in her defence however. So I smile genuinely, reassuring her I hope, as I slowly try to take the brush from her hands.

"Ceres, darling!" the Queen enters and her shock is as mine.

I use the distraction to yank the brush from her red hands. The Queen looks upon me and I instantly bow my head, closing my eyes in self reprimand for not treating the Princess with the same reverence. I unwittingly treated her differently, I must not, she is still royalty. It makes me no better than those who oppose her.

I nervously speak, "My Lady, you will ruin your beautiful hands, this is my job, to save your own skin." I try to make her see sense.

At my speech she looks numbly at her own upturned palms, then cautiously at mine. She acts as if she does not wish to offend me, but tentatively took my free hand. The mere thought is almost laughable, she could offend me all she pleases, for who she is compared to me. But she does not. It amazes me as I look at her, in her insecurity. I know what it is she is thinking, why should I take this 'punishment' as she obviously sees it. Why should she not take it upon herself? So I tell her, before she can speak against herself before me. "Because _you_ are the Princess," I say. 'And I am just a maid.' I finish in my own mind, almost with pride. For as maids go, I am quite high ranking, and quite happy.

Her Highness gives me another shaky smile, this one in thanks, before rising and taking the Queen's arm.

I gaze after them in confusion. What a sorry soul she is. I hope she is not permanently so. Perhaps upon her husband and daughter's return she shall be happy again. I shake my head absentmindedly, continuing the task my mistress had begun.

* * *

"He's here!" Phae runs in and hauls me up from the floor roughly.

"What? Who?" I say, frustrated. "I cannot go anywhere until I have finished this," I indicate the bathroom I'm currently cleaning. "Apparently Lord Horton's condition improves greatly and he is expected to be transferred from the Houses to his own chambers on the morrow."

"Oh pah to Lord Horton."

"I thought he was of great interest to you," I smile slyly, teasing my cousin over her one passing comment as to his handsome features.

"Prince Legolas is all but upon the gates! I had it from the gardener!"

I stop in my tracks, "Truly? He is home?" I say curiously.

We had gone to welcome the Prince and Princess with everyone else, but we had seen naught for the crowds. Though I had since seen the Princess with my own eyes, the Prince had left too soon for anyone to have had a good look at him. Curiosity was rife in the palace, not to mention concern for his safe return.

I wipe the tub down roughly with a cloth and inspect the room with a critical eye, "Will it do?"

"Aye, aye, now hurry or we shall miss him again!" she begins to pile my things onto my cart.

Having vacated the Lord's chambers and taken the cart back we run at break-neck speed to catch a glimpse of our new sovereign. Rumours say his time with mortals have made him age visibly, and that he is stout in belly. I giggle at the thought and Phae looks at me sidelong.

Taking a shortcut through the kitchens we came to the front of the building, ducking behind a pillar and chuckling to ourselves as we imagined what the Prince would look like. They were delayed for many weeks, and now that they were arriving home, it did not seem such a sin to be so curious.

"Look, horses," I point them out, then gasp as they get closer.

Several injured, or dare I guess, dead elves lay in the arms of their comrades. Our excitable moods are crushed as we grasp the severity of what had caused their delay. There were many elves of whom we could not place their faces, any one of them could be the Prince. A thought occurred to me suddenly, "What if he is one of the dead?"

Phae turned watery eyes to me, and I had no sympathy for her. She deserved to feel guilt. The things she had said and condoned, the mocking she had dished out, I'm glad she feels remorse. Though you would have thought she would have learnt her lesson after losing her job with the seamstresses over such.

A young looking elf jumps down with a child in his arms and she runs tearfully to her mother, who waits with open arms. The soldier then turns to another, taking a limp form from him without a word. The blonde stares for a moment at the path, before turning sternly.

I flinch at the steel in his eyes, and am in no doubt he is our Prince as my mistress releases her child and walks with relief towards him, opening her arms much as she did for the little girl. I find myself sympathising with her once more as he pushes past her and stalks into the house in a way that could leave one in no doubt of him being the son of Thranduil. His air and superiority unnerves me. He looks terrifying.

I share a look with my cousin and we decide not to risk his anger. And so we left as we came.

* * *

I have no idea what prompted it, but after that day when the Prince returned I was ordered not to attend their chambers or those opposite where the young warrior now resided. Who cleaned their rooms I know not, but after a few days I was summoned by Aòrelind on their behalf.

I paced repeatedly outside before the door opened abruptly. I took in a great gulp of air and held it, there stood the terrifying Prince. But I let my breath go and my brow furrow as I noticed a great change in him.

"Tariel?" he asked cheerfully.

After a moment's pause I merely nodded, before panicking, realising I had yet to bow. I did so quickly and was confused to hear a low chuckle.

"If you're ready, you can come in." He was gone from the doorway when I looked up again, the door ajar. I cringed inwardly, they must have heard me pacing.

As I slowly made my way into the room I nodded in greeting at the staff members I recognised. Everyone seemed at ease. "H-how did you know my name, sir?" I enquired anxiously.

"Because you are the only one not already here," my mistress smiled fondly and I could feel myself relaxing.

"Tariel, this is my husband, I know it has been many days but circumstances have prevented your meeting before now."

I nodded as if I understood, which of course I did not. I stared at his outstretched hand before slowly taking it. He shook it and I presumed it must be a ritual from his former home. "An honour to meet you, Tariel, please be at ease. Today I merely wish to meet you all," he indicated the room full of cooks, maids, gardeners, anyone specifically assigned to the Prince and Princess.

An honour to meet me? I almost chuckled but stayed myself. "The honour is mine, of course, Highness."

He rolled his eyes good humouredly and handed me a glass of fruit juice before giving his wife's hand a small squeeze and leading her to circulate in the room. What a bizarre turn around. Perhaps I did judge him too harshly. My smile grows for an unchecked moment at the thought that I shall be able to put to rest the rumours of the fat, aged Prince.

"See?" Aòrelind appeared at my side and I smile up at her. "They're not so bad."

THE END


End file.
